Blank

Oswin’s paintbrush met air. Devoid of the paint marking the palette, he drew a blank. 

It was his job to paint a portrait of himself, but no matter what he tried, nothing came out. 

What a strange dilemma. He knew who he was, so why try to put it to light? And yet, he could not think of anything that the canvas could or should hold.

“He’s so perfect he can’t even capture himself!”

How annoying. A glance showed him his usual posse fawning over him. No matter what he tried to do, they saw him as perfect. It was quite maddening, to say the least. 

He never chose to be. And he knew it was all surface-level anyhow. It wasn’t because he was beautiful in any way shape or form. No, he just liked to help people. And somehow, that was enough to garner him the favor of everyone at school, teacher and student alike.  

He dropped his paintbrush and got up, ignoring the gasps of those watching him.

“How can I help you?” He asked the person sitting behind him struggling as well. The poor boy had sweat dripping on his forehead. He appeared to have trouble drawing hands. How so? 

“Here, allow me.” 

Guiding his hand and ignoring his flushed cheeks, Oswin perfectly mimicked that very hand on the canvas. It was an easy task for him to capture that reality, that life and warmth and struggle of the student. Why anyone could have trouble with that…so why could he not do it for himself?

“Ah, I need help too…”

No sooner was he finished with that assistance came another plea for help. Anything to distract him from his own image or lack thereof. 

The girl’s face was full of love for everyone around her. Bright and hopeful. Another easy task. 

Another was full of gloom and hesitated to even ask, but her anxiety faded when Oswin came to him personally. 

One other was boisterous and already had a perfect self-portrait, calling Oswin for help was simply an act of vanity. How amusing.

They were all so full of life. 

It was easy for Oswin to capture their image, yet his own remained out of his grasp. So he asked his teacher for an extension, which was no trouble considering he helped her clean up the classroom just a few days ago. It did wonders to do favors, even though their inherent value meant nothing to his feelings. A means to an end he could not even see. 

Many scrambled to help him carry the canvas, but he refused. That image was his to hold alone and nobody else. He didn’t dare ask for help. That’s not what he’s there for.

Back home he hung up his canvas and picked up the brush again. He was away from the constraints of time and the watchful eyes of his peers, so the challenge should be null and void, right? But no sooner did the dry brush meet white, did his sister enter the room. 

“Got a minute?”

Of course, he did. He always had time to help. What other option was there? 

“What do you need?” He asked.

“Just come with me.”

And he did, following his sister out into the warm afternoon, musing about what she could require assistance with. This was the first time Nalani had ever asked him to do anything. 

It wasn’t until the graveyard came into view that he realized. 

“You don’t need my help,” Oswin whispered. “You wanted to help me.”

What a conundrum. Had she stated it as such, he would have refused. He had no desire to visit his brother ever again until he made up for what he’s done. 

“Of course, you idiot!” Nalani laughed, ruffling his hair and leaving it in a terrible state. His classmates would have a heart attack if they saw him now. 

“Why?”

A simple question, one that Nalani clearly had to think about. 

“Because I can’t bear to see you like this anymore, Oswin. Do you think Adrian would have?”

He didn’t know what his annoying twin brother wanted. All he knew was that he failed him. And now he had to pick up the pieces and make it up to him. 

And thus Oswin remained silent. Nalani sighed and pat him on his shoulder.

“Take your time, okay?”

As her large frame exited his view, Oswin knelt down towards the gravestone denoting the name and life of his other half. Nigh blank, just a name and numbers, not even an epitaph was carved into the stone. A far cry from the idiotic and hot-headed boy now lying underneath. 

“...what was it that you want from me?” Oswin asked far too late. The dirt did not respond to his question. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that? You should have just told me, anyone.”

More silence.

“I-, I couldn’t have known. You need to speak up, or I won’t know, you know that about me.”

His quiet was almost the same as before, forcing Oswin to infer what he wanted. But only 1 percent of uncertainty bred the unknown. He hated the unknown. He hated not knowing. 

“What did you need help with?”

No answer for one final time. Oswin left the grave. Whatever Nalani wanted him to feel, he did not. Why did everybody have to talk in such riddles? It would be so much easier if they were plain and clear.

He encountered an old lady. He asked her if she needed help. She told him he needed help crossing the street. Such was a task easily done, easily understood. 

When he was back home, he asked Nalani another question.

“Do you need any help?”

That deflated her, and she shook her head, which was just as well. After all, he still had work to do. 

Sitting before his empty canvas, Oswin took the paintbrush in hand again, determined to paint himself. There was a mirror to his side, so that should be no problem. Why it was ever a problem was beyond him. 

Adrian’s face, so identical to his own, popped into his head. He could just paint him and be done with it. Nobody would notice a difference. After all, his twin was always the more noticeable one. The loud one. The popular one. The idiot one. Oswin himself was a mere shadow. A mere copy.

Oswin dropped his brush. During his musings his hand had taken a life of its own, painting exactly what he was thinking about. In an attempt to draw Adrian’s face without paint, there was nothing, at least to the naked eye. Nigh invisible.

Nalani’s words echoed in his mind once more. 

“Because I can’t bear to see you like this anymore, Oswin. Do you think Adrian would have?”

No. He wouldn’t have. 

Oswin sighed. It wasn’t fair to be jealous of Adrian, but the damage was already done on both their parts. 

Adrian died. And with him, his shadow. Oswin couldn’t even remember who he used to be, but what’s clear was who he was now.

A blank.